


Day 3: Snow

by Sang_argente



Series: 25 Days of Fic [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sang_argente/pseuds/Sang_argente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>anon said: Hi there this is mizixy. Super excited for your 25 Days challenge. So pairing prompts, if you can make them work. Derek/Peter/Stiles or <b>Chris/Stiles</b> (hell even Chris/Peter/Stiles would be excellent). Other than that, I say bring on the Steter. Hopefully your readers will get more delicious fluff. Thanks for your time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 3: Snow

If someone had told Stiles a year ago that his closest friend would be a middle-aged werewolf hunter, he probably would have slid away slowly, determined to get away from the crazy person as fast as possible.

If someone had told Stiles six months ago that he have a huge, improbable crush on that same hunter, he might have laughed in their face before shoving the brief flare of curiosity into a tiny box of repression.

If someone had told Stiles three months ago that he'd be one half of an intense, secret relationship, the werewolf hunter being the other half, he most likely would have slunk away in shame, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

As it was, no one had told Stiles any of these things. Yet here he was, breathing heavily as he ran through a snowy forest, futilely trying to catch up with his werewolf hunting lover, Chris Argent.

There had been a few annoyances commented on by a few wolves in Stiles's pack and a thorough research meeting had led the pack to believing there was a rogue group of hunters in their territory. After much whining on Stiles's part, Chris had agreed to use his name to push the rogues out. Ideally, he would tell them he was taking care of Beacon Hills and they would leave, no weapons necessary.

Of course that wasn't what happened.

The rogues had been disgusted by an Argent who, in their opinion, had been corrupted. The only good werewolf, they told Chris, was a dead one. When it was clear that Chris didn't agree, it became open season for any member of the pack.

Including Stiles.

This meant Chris (and Scott and Derek and Erica) had taken it upon himself to stick to Stiles's side, hands constantly hovering over his various hidden weapons. The hunter had followed Stiles everywhere he went, including school after one of the rogue hunters had tried to attack the pack during lacrosse practice. While he had been flattered by his lover's worry, it had gotten suffocating quick.

After countless hours of begging and pleading, half-serious bribes, and a handful of sexual favors, Stiles had finally gotten Chris to relax the crazy security measures so they could take a private walk in the woods. It was supposed to be fun. No weapons, no werewolves, no shoptalk. It had only been thirty minutes of light, flirty conversation before Chris had frozen in place, turning to look at Stiles in horror.

"They're here," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, voice strained and tight. Stiles barely had enough time to even look back at his older lover before the man was taking off, sprinting through the trees in a chaotic zig-zag.

Intellectually, Stiles knew that would lessen the chance of Chris being hit by any sort of projectiles. Emotionally, Stiles was frozen by the thought of Chris getting hit with _anything_. As such, it took the longest minute of Stiles's life to get his bearings back enough to actually start running.

He darted after Chris, taking the opposite path. He was just a few feet away, close enough to see the moonlight glinting off of the grey in Chris's hair, when he heard a harsh groan and watched fearfully as the man stumbled a few steps, then hit the ground.

Skidding to a stop next to his fallen lover, Stiles dropped down next to Chris and turned him over with shaking hands.

"Chris?" Stiles whispered, his throat to dry with terror to speak any louder. "Chris, are you okay? Where did they hit you?!"

"S-Stiles," Chris groaned, coughing to loosen the pressure in his chest. "Stiles, I'm fine. It just n-nicked my leg. I hit the ground p-pretty hard, t-that's all."

Stiles exhaled loudly, sliding his hands under Chris's shoulders to sit him up. "We have to get out of here. Come on, we're only a few yards from the house. No point in dying in the snow when there's a fire burning at home."

Groaning again, Chris shuffled to his feet and leaned heavily against Stiles. "We're not gonna die, kid."

"Not in the snow we're not," Stiles agreed, half-carrying half-dragging Chris closer to the Hale house. He grunted with the effort but kept his arm tight around Chris's trim waist. "I planned on dying all toasty warm, wrapped around you in bed, sometime when we're _both_ old and grey."

"You _planned_ d-dying?" Chris asked, stuttering when all of Stiles's words caught up with him. He side-eyed his young lover for a moment, then lowered his voice. "With me?"

" _Yes_ , dipshit, with you," Stiles glanced at Chris shyly, quickly turning back to face their destination. "Always with you."

Chris was stopped from saying his next words by the loud crack of a falling tree branch. It was so close, it threw snow up onto the two of them like a cloud of dust. He hissed a warning to Stiles. "They're following us. Tell me we're almost there."

"Almost there," Stiles agreed, quickening his pace. "We won't have enough time, but I have a backup plan."

"What?"

Stiles took a deep breath, threw his head back, and howled.

Chris stared at his lover in amazement. That was a howl from a true wolf. It was deep, resonant, and _powerful._ If he hadn't believed Stiles had actually made that sound, he would be worried about a wild wolf getting to him before the hunters.

Before he could say anything, three loud howls came back to them. Where Stiles's howl had been sad and pained, these howls were reassuring and angry. Most importantly, they were close.

"Good plan," Chris managed, adrenaline draining from his system leaving him lethargic and near unconsciousness. He fought to stay awake, to talk to Stiles one more time. He had to make sure Stiles knew this, if the boy knew nothing else. "Stiles..."

"Chris? What is it?"

"Don't...don't leave my body in the snow."

"Chris!"

Chris woke up in the same manner as a child who had been moved by their parents during sleep. Rested, but confused.

"You're at the Hale house," a voice from his side said. "The gunshot wound wasn't as light as you made it out to be. There was a lot of blood. Plus, you cracked a rib or two when you hit the ground. That hard knock to your head probably didn't help much either."

Turning his head slowly, Chris lifted his eyelids just enough to catch sight of Stiles's relieved, yet frowning, face. "You didn't leave me."

"No," Stiles agreed, resisting the urge to smack the injured man. "Did you really think I would?"

"Always...with me..." Chris said in response, sighing blissfully when Stiles softened like warm caramel.

"Next winter, let's just skip the snow altogether," Stiles said quietly, caressing Chris's forehead with careful fingertips. "Otherwise, I just might leave you in a deep snowdrift."

"Nah," Chris breathed, turning into Stiles's caresses. "You love me."

Stiles smiled softly, moving his hand to brush against Chris's lips lightly before leaning down to drop a soft kiss in the same spot. "Yeah, I love you. But I'm serious about no more snow."

"No more snow," Chris agreed, smiling slightly when Stiles kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked prompt fill, you are more than welcome to request your own (any pairing, any fandom) [here](http://stilesthesasswolf.tumblr.com)!


End file.
